


rocketman

by orphan_account



Series: oneshots that can't really go anywhere else [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Army AU, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a present for my biiitch, an underrated pairing, come on and read it cowards, coming home AU, domestic fluff?, even though it's lowkey bad quality, gay boyfriends being gay and being cute, god i love these fics so much, lets put our hand together for gay superhero boyfriends, miles morales is a good friend, this was so fun to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 10:36:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16038734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: sam comes home to peter after serving in the army for three years.





	rocketman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stvrkrcgers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stvrkrcgers/gifts).



> a low-quality, un-beta'ed present for my best friend. i love you, ashley. <3
> 
> (title from the song "rocketman" by AI-X the Greatest)

 

 

 

Peter and Sam used to go to this one park everyday after class.

 

It was their special space. A place many people shared, but only they found special, in their own ways. Sam always talked about how it was the peace that made it so great, that it was the stretches of grass broken only by shrubs and the stream and way that the wind would sing songs in the trees that made it just so beautiful. He always said that the wildlife was what made it cute, but Peter is what made it whole. You know - cheesy boyfriend things.

 

They would sit and eat takeaway Chinese on this one bench with peeled paint and a cracked plank in the seat as they talked about anything and everything. Sam would always order the honey-roasted chicken with egg-fried rice and sugar seaweed. The smell stuck to his clothes for days after and spread onto the fresh laundry when he walked into the apartment, but Peter didn’t mind. He never minded.

 

Then they’d throw the takeaway boxes in the bin and Sam would go skipping off up the path, leaving Peter a few steps behind to watch him dance and cartwheel across the grass. It was like watching a child compete at a gymnast's show. Peter didn’t know how he could do it right after eating. Maybe it’s an alien thing.

 

This park was their go-to spot. Their wind-down. Their peace of mind. Their place of absolute serenity. Sam’s favourite place in the whole world.

 

And because it is Sam’s favourite place in the world, Peter thinks that going to this one park without him is… weird.

 

When Sam went off to serve in the army for a few years, Peter stopped going to the park everyday after class. He stopped going out just for the fun of it so much. He stopped leaving the apartment unless he really had to. He showed up to classes late. He still went out as Spiderman when he felt up to it, but not nearly as much as he should have. He couldn't look at the news because all they talked about was where Nova disappeared to.

 

It just wasn’t the same without him.

 

It was a couple months later when Miles Morales eventually decided that he wasn’t going to let Peter Parker wither away in his apartment, depressed and lonely without his soulmate at his side. It progressed from having Miles text him to make sure that he's eaten within the past few days, to Miles staying over to make sure that he didn't do anything stupid, to Miles forcing him out of the apartment more often.

 

They went to the park.

 

It was never the same. No, it couldn't be, not without Sam. But was nice, Peter supposes, even just to go with Miles. They get pizza instead of Chinese and eat on a different bench instead of that one special bench. You know, just to shake it up a little. Miles doesn’t cartwheel after he eats, he gets sleepy and starts to walk even slower. It wasn’t the same, it wasn’t as great, but it was nice.

 

Just… nice.

 

Miles uses his phone a lot more today. Peter notices it as they’re finishing up their pizza. He licks the grease from his fingertips, looks down to see if he got any sauce on Sam’s hoodie, and sits up on the bench to peer at his friend’s phone. “Texting a girl?” he remarks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at Miles.

 

 _“No,”_ Miles says, all too defensive, and Peter thinks to himself that he is definitely texting a girl. Who could it be - Mindy from economics, or maybe Savannah from natural sciences? Maybe even the tall Russian chick that just about everyone has tried to wrangle? “Just… a friend. I’m texting a friend.”

 

Definitely a girl.

 

“If you say so,” Peter says, not convinced but also not one to press. He takes their pizza boxes and throws them in the bin. Sam always made sure they put all their litter in the bin when he was still here. “Come on, I want to get home.”

 

On most days, Miles is all too happy to move fluidly with Peter’s pace, but today he blanks his phone and asks, “why so soon?”

 

“I’m tired."

 

Miles’ phone vibrates, then, before he can open his mouth to reply. The boy glances at the screen, and it’s as if that the message sent to him suddenly boosted his energy, because all at once he bounces onto his feet and shakes the crumbs off his creased shirt. “Hopefully not tired enough for a special surprise, courtesy of me, myself and I,” he says slyly.

 

“Oh no. If this is one of those flashmobs I see on YouTube, then I’m going to turn around and leave,” Peter threatens playfully. He wouldn’t leave in reality - a flashmob _would_ be pretty damn funny, if not a bit unbelievable, and would definitely do a good job of cheering him up a little.

 

“This is much better than a flashmob, Pete. Come on.”

 

They walk for maybe another ten minutes in the serene quiet of the park, before Peter hears someone wolf-whistle behind him.

 

“Damn,” a lilting Arizonian accent purrs, “still stealing my hoodies, I see.”

 

Peter whirls around. His hands go to his mouth

 

Standing in the path, head tilted a few degrees to the left, grin as lop-sided as Peter remembers, is the man that Peter has missed for the past three years, that he hasn’t seen ever since he left the day after Christmas three long years ago.

 

Standing in the path is his boyfriend.

 

Oh. His  _boyfriend_.

 

And Peter crashes into him hard, so hard that he nearly topples them both over. His arms lock around the taller man and he cannot help but sob into his shoulder - he sobbed out every emotion he’s felt as he thought about how much he wished Sam could be there with him, every little moment that he’s walked out away from thinking about how much Sam would love to have seen that.

 

He pulls away, then, and steps back to look at him. He’s definitely more built, with hair that little bit shorter, skin even more tan than before, with a straighter posture and look about his face that radiates military nature even with civilian clothes on, but the look in his eyes and the tilt of his lips and the rich olive of his skin and the scent of cedar wood and coffee is so unmistakably the Sam he fell in love with so long ago, and, and-

 

“Oh my God,” he gasps. “Oh my _God._ You’re… here. Here. Right here. In this park.”

 

“Right here, in this park,” Sam says, and opens his arms.

 

Peter snaps his head back to look at Miles for the smallest of seconds and the boy is smiling the biggest smile, holding out his phone. _‘Go on then,’_ he mouths.

 

That’s all the encouragement Peter needs.

 

He steps forward, swiping tears away from his eyes, and cups Sam’s face in his shaking palms. He's captured in the dark colours of his boyfriend's eyes, by the almighty storm of strength and emotion that they hold. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispers, and pulls him into a kiss.

 

Miles is cheering and whooping behind them, but they aren’t listening. Nothing else matters to him but the touch, the smell, the taste of the man he’s been deprived of three long, painful years. Nothing else matters to them - not the trees, the stream, the fucking bench with peeling paint and a cracked plank - but the hold of each other.

 

They pull away when they can’t breathe anymore, panting and smiling and crying.

 

“I love you,” Sam whispers, and pulls him into another kiss.

 

Maybe everything is alright again.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hahaha. i tried.
> 
> join my discord here, folks:  
> https://discord.gg/Jc5HYvU


End file.
